My brother
by maple mouse
Summary: "Why are you smiling like that?" Alfred murmured, finally subduing his coughs, "I could be dying you know." Matthew's smile grew, "You undoubtedly are." Alfred forced his eyes open, "Huh? B-but Arthur said it was j-just the flu…?" AU. Incredibly dark Canada. Human names used. Rated T for violence. One-shot.


**Yes, yes, I know I'm supposed to be writing my other story, Fear of a Nation, I just felt like writing this. I got the idea for this story from a fanfic I read about America horribly offending Canada, and Canada just took it wordlessly. It made me mad. Anyways, enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: No matter how much I would like to, I do not own Hetalia.**

"I left a few cans of soup in the cupboard downstairs." Arthur said, pacing anxiously back and forth.

"I know."

"And if he gets any worse, don't be afraid to call me." Moving to Alfred's bedside, Arthur adjusted the blankets around the sleeping figure.

"I know."

"And if Francis stops by don't let him in."

"I know."

"And don't forget to-"

"Arthur, I know!" Matthew exclaimed, his weak voice barely rising above a whisper, "you've already gone over this several times. You need to go home and get some rest."

Turning away from the sleeping blonde, Arthur faced Matthew, "Are you sure? Maybe I should stay here and take care of him…"

Matthew shook his head, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my own brother. I'll call you if I need you, but really Arthur, you're running yourself ragged here. Go home."

"You're right, of course… I'm just so worried about him, I've never seen him looks so helpless." Arthur turned back to Alfred and stroked his hair gently. Matthew's face flashed with jealously at fond gesture, but it was gone in a flash, hidden behind a mask of emotionlessness, and Arthur did not notice.

Sighing with exhaustion, Arthur left the room with Matthew following close behind; the two trudged silently down the stairs and stopped before the front door. Arthur grabbed his coat from the rack and, with one last worried look back up the stairs, left, not bothering to say goodbye to Matthew.

Matthew didn't move for several minutes, he listened carefully to Arthur's footsteps as they walked down front porch to the driveway where both their cars were parked. He waited patiently as Arthur fumbled with his car keys and started his car. Finally came the sound of the car pulling away and driving off. A slow smile spread across Matthew's face, he turned and went to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of milk.

He took his milk into the living room and sat down on the couch, leaning his head on the back of the couch sadly. He remained like that for a bit before taking a long drink of milk, savoring the cool, creamy liquid as it passed over his tongue. When he had emptied his glass, Matthew took it to the kitchen and rinsed it out in the sink.

Glancing up at the clock on his way to Alfred's room, Matthew realized with a start that it had been nearly an hour since Arthur had left; he shrugged, it didn't really matter. He entered the room quietly and gently took the damp towel from Alfred's forehead. He took it to the bathroom sink and doused it with cold water and wrung it out, bringing it back to Alfred's room and placing gently back on his brother's head. Matthew's fingers brushed against Alfred's skin and he felt how high his fever truly was. He sighed sadly and stroked his little brother's hair as Arthur had nearly an hour ago.

Alfred stirred and looked up at him confused, "W-who…?" he asked in a shaky voice.

Matthew bit his lip angrily, "It's me, Matthew… your brother."

Alfred smiled weakly, "Mattie," he whispered, "I feel terrible."

"I know Al. I know." He sat down beside his brother and ruffled his hair.

"I'm really hungry."

Matthew nodded silently and stood, leaving the room. He walked calmly downstairs and began to heat up a bowl of tomato soup. After a few minutes, the microwave beeped and Matthew removed the bowl, he took it and a spoon up to Alfred's room.

When he opened the door he saw that his brother had drifted off to sleep. Matthew shook him gently and Alfred woke instantly.

"I brought you some soup."

Alfred nodded and accepted the soup wordlessly. He ate half the bowl before handing it back to his brother, "Thanks Mattie."

Placing the bowl on the bedside table, Matthew smiled as his brother went into a coughing fit.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Alfred murmured, finally subduing his coughs, "I could be dying you know."

Matthew's smile grew, "You undoubtedly are."

Alfred forced his eyes open, "Huh? B-but Arthur said it was j-just the flu…?"

Matthew stared off into space for a few minutes, as if he had not heard him, "I had the flu last week."

In his half-conscious state, it took Alfred a few moments to realize the change in Matthew's voice. It was no longer quiet and timid, but blunt and forceful; the anger in his brother's voice frightened him.

"No one came to take care of me, no one even called. And yet when you get sick, here we are, answering to your every beck and call."

Alfred frowned, still fighting sleep, "I had no idea Mattie… I would have come…"

His brother sneered at him, "You did know Al. You were the one who took me home because I was too weak to drive myself… remember? You promised you would come check on me every day."

"Oh…" he remembered now. Matthew had been so weak, it had scared him. How in the world had he forgotten? "Mattie, I'm so sorry."

Matthew sighed and began to stroke his brother's sweaty hair softly. Alfred apologized again and began to drift off to sleep, confident in the belief that his brother had forgiven him, just as he had so many times before.

As Alfred fell asleep once again, Matthew shook his head. Alfred had been wrong, he had not been forgiven, he had forgotten his bother one time too many. Matthew slowly picked up one of Alfred's numerous pillows and placed it over his brother's face, pressing down on it. After a moment, Alfred began to thrash and fight him weakly, but Matthew was stronger. Finally Alfred fell still and Matthew removed the pillow, staring down at his brother.

He stood, unwilling to look away from the body of his little brother. Tearing his eyes away, Matthew pulled out his cell phone and dialed Arthur's number.

Arthur picked up on the third ring, "Matthew? How's everything going with your brother? Is he alright?"

Forcing panic into his voice, Matthew spoke, "Arthur! Help me! Alfred's not breathing; I don't know what to do!"

"WHAT?!" Arthur screamed in his ear, "Call an ambulance, right now! I'm on my way."

Matthew hung up, smiling to himself and dialed 911.

"Hello, 911. What is your emergency?" asked the calm female voice on the other end of the phone.

"It's my brother…"


End file.
